The Dovahkiin and The Thief
by BearBoo1998
Summary: Our young Dovahkiin, fraught with a lust she cannot control, the fear of Civil War knocking on her doorstep, and not to mention the ups and downs of fraternizing with sneaks and thieves. Must choose a side to fight under, while still keeping the peace with one rather honey-tongued Nord.
1. Unexpected Visitor

**Chapter 1**

Kirsia Travenne stumbles through the front door to her home in Whiterun, bruised and bloodied from her travels and not _entirely_ sure if her shoulder was in the right place. Falling into the chair in front of the fire that her housecarl, Lydia, surely lit anticipating her arrival, she starts to remove her breastplate to survey the damage. Placing the chest piece down next to the chair, she assesses the damage to her shoulder, the skin taut as her bone presses out in the wrong direction. The exhausted woman slowly manipulates the dislocated joint back into position, not wanting to disturb the younger Nord from her sleep. Her eyes fall to the flames in the hearth, dancing and writhing in the moonlight. The job had taken far longer than she expected, between the bandits loitering outside the catacombs to the Draugr littering the passageways and rooms, not to mention the traps laden throughout the tomb. Nevertheless, she had her prize, and would deliver it to Vex after a few hours kip in her own bed. 

Her ears prick as she hears quiet as light footsteps coming from the second level of her home. Not moving her gaze from the stairs, she reaches behind her for her bow and a singular arrow. One arrow may not be enough to kill the intruder, but it sure as Oblivion would slow them down long enough to grab her sword or axe to her right. Arrow nocked and drawn she waits, hearing the footsteps near the stairs, she lines up the arrow with what is soon to be the intruders kneecap. Suddenly she hears an all-too-familiar voice call out to her, a simple "Lass?" is all it takes for her to drop the bow and arrow in her hands. Hearing the weapon drop to the floor the fiery haired Nord emerges at the top of the stairs, appraising his fellow thief and assessing whether she was likely to shoot him if he approached her. The Breton female is slumped over her bow, the only sign that she is alive is the slight movement of her shoulders as she breathes.

"Kira?" the Nord asks, questioning more whether she was alright with him being in her home than if she was ok. She looked like shit- the job Vex gave her must have been a rather tough one. He kicked himself for not manning up and taking the job himself, instead he had decided to stay in Riften and cosy up in the Cistern having a laugh with the remainder of the Guild. But when Vex had told him Kira had left Riften a good week prior, and a scout had last seen her leaving Breezehome, he knew where he needed to be. He had made the trip to Whiterun in the early hours of the morning, so as not to disturb the others in the cistern, nor alerting them to his intentions.

On his arrival he tracked down Lydia, who divulged very little on her Thane's whereabouts, no matter the amount of gold the Nord offered. However, she had allowed him into Breezehome with minimal fuss. As he recalled her words where something like, "It be on your head what she does to you on her return Brynjolf. This is her home, and if you were not of the guild I'd have cut you down by now." Lydia had reluctantly allowed the Nord to wait here, on the condition that come midday the following he had to leave or find himself another roof to sleep under.

"Gods Lass, you look like you're ready to take a trip to Sovngarde. Did Vex have you take a tussle with a dragon or something?" the Nord cautiously approached her, head low as if in submission. She was the only person the thief had come across who could scare him with her ocean blue orbs. From the first time Sapphire introduced the thief to the Breton female, her eyes had held something that frightened him to the very core, a knowledge of something far greater than himself or the guild. It took almost a week of Kira doing jobs for the guild before news of a Breton female named Dovahkiin reached his ears. Sat in the Bee and the Barb, discussing a potential job with Sapphire, a courier had discreetly handed Maven Black-Briar a letter adorned with a symbol he did not recognise. The dark-haired Nord had stood, rather abruptly for the older woman, and proceeded to make her way towards Mistveil Keep. The ever-curious Nord had followed, keeping in the shadows as not to be seen and had slid in behind Maven as she entered and approached Jarl Laila. The thief situated himself out of sight but within earshot of the women, Maven explained that the letter she had received was from a contact in Ivarstead. News of a raven-haired Breton woman who had ascended the 7000 steps to High Hrothgar shortly after the booming " **Dovahkiin"** had echoed over what could only be assumed all of Skyrim. Then the woman had not appeared for several days, over which much 'shouting' could be heard from the Throat of the World. The letter also contained a rather detailed drawing of the woman, complete with ocean blue eyes and scar over left eye. Bryn had crept into Black-Briar Manor later that night and stolen a look at the mysterious letter, the drawing bore a rather striking resemblance to his newest recruit.

"What are you doing here Bryn? I know Mercer would not have sent you after me, I'm not important enough for the Guild Master to send his Second to retrieve. So, answer me this Brynjolf, what in Oblivion are you doing in my home? And better yet how did you get in here? I know you wouldn't dare pick my lock, unless of course you were being your pigheaded self, and I know for a fact there isn't anyone in Whiterun who you could whore yourself out to to get a key."

The Nord takes a step back, almost as if Kira had pushed him, his eyes portraying his true feelings. The look of betrayal flashed across his green eyes. After a moment, he comes back to himself "Do you think that lowly of me lass? Did you honestly think I hadn't noticed your absence from the Cistern, let alone the fact your presence is hard to miss _Dovahkiin?_ You are one of a kind to me Kira, I would miss your presence even from Sovngarde." The Nord slowly approaches, head still bowed, and reached out for her hand, when the Dragonborns eyes remained on the flickering light of the hearth his hand dropped. "Am I not allowed to worry about a thief I recruited Lass?"

Kirsia's shoulders stiffened at the pet name Brynjolf adorned _every_ conquest he had, however she had obtained it not from being a notch on his bedpost, rather by being her closed off self. The Nord had often commented on her figure or made off-hand comments as she entered the Cistern and gods forbid he caught her in the Flagon so much as talking to the Sneak Master, Delvin Mallory. The comments, though often complimentary, made the woman's skin crawl. Over her short time with the guild she had learned of Brynjolf's many conquests across all of Skyrim it seemed, hearing stories as far as Solstheim and Markarth. Her fellow Breton, Glover Mallory had warned her not only of Delvin but of the fiery haired Nord he once called brother. "He's not one to be tied down that one." Glover had remarked during one of her trips to Solstheim. "Even when we were young thieves in training, he had to be the best, and would do whatever needed to impress Gallus. Since Gallus was murdered he has moved his… attentions elsewhere I guess you could say. Just be careful around him sister, he may seem sweet and honey tongued but he uses that to his advantage with women. Don't make yourself another notch on his bedpost he will forget by morn." His words had stayed with her over the months, had stuck firmer in her head with every comment The Second had made in her direction.

"Brynjolf, if I needed or even wanted your concern I'd be certain to let you know. Now, stop skirting around my questions or get out before I call the guards." Venom laced her words- she was in no state, physically or mentally, to sit and listen to what the Nord thought, even if he was her superior. She had battled long and hard to retrieve the weapon from Bleak Falls Barrow, even though she knew the layout from her previous escapades there, bandits had reconvened and littered the entrance like a plague. Not to mention the Draugr that had mysteriously either been missed on her last visit or had decided now was the time to wake up, and some considerate idiot had gone through and re-laid traps she had dealt with. Fortunately, for Brynjolf's case, the young Dragonborn had learnt far more than just the training of the Thu'um. The Greybeards of High Hrothgar had taught her how to quell the rage she felt, how to calm her inner dragon from bursting out and shouting those in her way all the way to Oblivion and beyond. "And if the guards don't bother you _Brother_ maybe I should shout you from here back to the Cistern, hmm. It's up to you, Nord."

Brynjolf pulls up a chair across the fire from the rather annoyed woman, sitting and gazing at the ground, contemplating whether he should divulge what his heart was screaming to say. "Lydia let me in, said something about cutting me down if it weren't for my Guild status. She also warned me about your possible… temperament on your return. I… I needed to know you were alright, Lass- I did not come here on behalf of the guild or on some errand." The Nord fixes his gaze firmly on the fire between them. _Damn Mara and the rest of you for doing this to me,_ _I was perfectly fine before you blasted Divines threw your two septims into the equation._

"Spit it out Bryn. I'd rather enjoy a nap before having to head back to Riften, and unfortunately, I can't do that with a Nord statue in my living room. Perhaps I should find some birds to shit on you while you think of what to say?" _Who am I kidding, I won't get a wink knowing he's in Whiterun, probably trying to bed every woman from here to Jorrvaskr and probably some of the servants in Dragonsreach just to be thorough._ The woman glances, however brief, at the man opposite her. The fiery locks of hair falling over emerald eyes, light flickering through them as if holding onto a memory, or emotion. Suddenly the green eyes meet hers, the emerald darkening with an emotion Kira hadn't seen since she left Daggerfall, a mixture of lust and adoration. _Snap out of it woman! He's a whore among thieves. Remember all the stories you have heard, not only from your travels but from your guild mates. Remember Glover's words, don't become another conquest for him to toss aside for the next busty broad to cross his vision._ The younger thief stands, ignoring her conscience pleading with her to ignore the pull of the Nord staring into her eyes. "What do you need Brynjolf?" the words pour from her mouth as a mere whisper, barely audible over the crackling flames in the firepit.

The older thief holds her deep blue eyes with his, trying to fight the urge to grab the Breton and claim her as his. "I should go Lass, you need your sleep, and no doubt Vex, and Delvin are struggling with Mercer's moods without me there to cushion the blow. We will talk when you return." The Nord stands, now mere inches from her small frame. The scent of nightshade and snowberries filling his nostrils, clouding his other senses for a moment. "Lass..." the Nord mutters, just loud enough for Kira's keen hearing to pick up. "Come home safe. We need you." _I need you._ The woman averts her gaze back to the fire, losing herself in what Brynjolf could only suspect was the thought of her bed upstairs. "Goodnight Lass." he states as he manoeuvres towards the door. "Walk with the shadows Kira." Before he closes the door behind him he hears the faintest words leave the Bretons lips, "Walk with the shadows Bryn"

Dovahkiin, Dragonborn, Breton, Thane, Thief. What does it all matter if yet again she's alone with her thoughts? What does it mean if she must walk this path alone, through the cold and desolate plains of Skyrim? Why had she let the stupid Nord walk away with yet another promise to talk later? Was Brynjolf that busy whoring his way through the holds of Skyrim that he couldn't notice the subtle hint she left for him before his abrupt departure from her home? Was he as naive as everyone claimed him to be? Or was she blinded by her obvious obsession with the unobtainable? Kirsia lay staring at the ceiling above her bed, a soft snore floating into her room from Lydia. The Nord woman had stood by her side through many a trial, and although apprehensive, had accepted her decision to join the thieves below Riften. Her housecarl had not hidden her disappointment at the prospect of having sneaks and thieves in the home they shared, but nonetheless Lydia has stood by her oath and would follow Kira to Oblivion and back if the need arose. The fact the Nord hadn't cut Brynjolf down where he stood when he came asking questions showed her unwavering loyalty as Kira's sword and shield. Muted light filtered through the wood panelled roof above the Dragonborns head, signalling the beginning of her journey back to Riften.


	2. An Inquiry For The Truth

**Chapter 2**

Kirsia steps out into the brisk morning air, a bow and arrows across her back and dagger sheathed along her thigh. Lydia walks closely behind the Breton as she makes her way towards Jorrvaskr, the Nord's hand resting rather firmly on her blade. "Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?" Kira smirks at her housecarl, the sides of her mouth twitching in a vain attempt not to laugh at the dark-haired Nord by her side. "You know the tales as well as I, my Thane. I still don't understand your need to visit the Companions. What does the Thane of Whiterun need from them?" Lydia shudders at the thought. Jorrvaskr may be known as the mead hall for the Companions, however, Kira had a much stronger connection to the place. "Now Lydia, you know there are a specific set of Nords in Jorrvaskr that have been more than welcoming to us. Remove your hand from your weapon dear, lest they believe we mean them harm." The younger women huffs in annoyance but removes her hand from the blade.

As the two women walk past the Shrine of Talos, splintered rays of light filter into their vision, causing Jorrvaskr to be surrounded by a halo of muted sunlight. The younger of the two stiffens slightly as a red-haired Nord descends the first few steps from the mead hall, war paint slashed across her face and scabbard at her hip. "Aela, are the twins around?" The older of the two casually asks the Companion. The Huntress looks to Kira with an air of superiority. "Vilkas has his head stuck in a book yet again and I'm fairly certain Farkas is in the courtyard teaching the new welps the ropes. Not that I think either of them would mind being disturbed by you, Dragonborn." Aela sneers. Unaffected by the tone the Companion used in her direction, the thief nods in acknowledgment. "Thank you Aela, it's much appreciated."

The older Companion sneers as she passes the younger Nord guarding her Thane. "I'd watch her back if you can… or are you just an over glorified bodyguard." The young housecarl straightened her shoulders, following her Thane into the proverbial Wolf's Lair.

Had it been any other time Kirsia would have left Lydia at Breezehome and made this venture on her own. The younger Nord had been very straight forward with her dislike and distrust of the guild they now visited, but alas Kira needed some answers only Vilkas and Farkas could give her. The Nords had welcomed Kira with open arms on her arrival to Whiterun even with the impending Civil war on their doorstep. Kodlak had once extended the offer for Kirsia to join their ranks, however, the young Breton had refused on the premise of having a full plate already- she was not wrong. With Balgruuf and Farengar wishing her to retrieve the Dragonstone and having just escaped Imperial capture, the Breton was distracted, to say the least. Eventually, after joining the thieves, she had visited the mead hall to inquire about a certain something within the hold, knowing full well that not much could get past the guild whom called Jorrvaskr home.

Walking into the main hall her eyes fall on Vilkas, as Aela had noted, with his head buried in a book. Moving closer to the distracted Nord, Skjor catches the Dragonborn's attention. His tall frame towering over the two intruders to the Hall. "He's been there all morning Kira, I don't know what he's reading or why but none of us can get through his thick skull. Any idea what that sponge is absorbing?" The elder Nord asks, almost apprehensively.

"I'll go see Skjor, unfortunately, I don't have your answers right now, but as soon as I have any idea what your brother is so absorbed in I'll let you know. In the meantime, would you mind taking Lydia out to see Farkas, maybe he can spar with my housecarl, just to keep her blade sharp." The Breton winks at her housecarl, noting the scowl of disgust on the Nords face at the idea of sparing a Companion. "Don't look so glum my dear, Farkas is one of the best fighters, most likely only to be beaten by Kodlak or Skjor here. And I'm sure our friend will step in if said fighter where to go too far, wouldn't you Skjor?" Kira glances up at the Nord werewolf, knowing full well the man standing in front of her could hardly refuse the Thane let alone the Dovahkiin.

Skjor nods silently, guiding Lydia from the Hall. The unspoken understanding between the two women becoming apparent as the young Nord follows the Warrior to the training yard.

Slowly and quietly the thief approached the man buried deep in the lore of Tamriel. Standing in front of the Nord, Kira clears her throat, trying to catch the man's attention away from the tome in his clutches. Unexpected and without taking his eyes from the page he is studying, Vilkas addresses the woman standing over him. "Yes Kira, how may I help you on this wonderful morning, my dear?"

Stumbling over her words, taken slightly aback by the cold reception from her friend, Kira responds as shortly as possible, "I need information Vilkas, information only you can give me." The Breton takes a seat next to the Nord. The two had once thought there was something more between them, however, after meeting Brynjolf in Riften, Kirsia had resigned herself to a life longing for another Nord far out of her reach.

"What information do you seek Kira, I have little time to speak on trivial matters these days." Confused by the stone like tone Vilkas was showing her the Breton stood abruptly, not wanting to disturb the obviously unaware Nord from his work.

"It's no matter Vilkas," she responds, venom lacing her words. "I'll just find my information elsewhere. Perhaps Farkas can help me, considering you're far too busy to entertain a possible job." The Thane knew it was a low blow, however, she needed both brothers and their combined knowledge to ascertain the truth this time.

Looking up and closing the book in his hands the Nord's silver eyes soften considerably, "What is it you wish to know, young Dragonborn? Whatever it is you need I shall find it." The woman looked down at the man she once thought was her forever. The brothers would go to Oblivion and back if she asked them, especially Vilkas. Maybe it was their inherent need to protect those they felt worthy or their knowledge that Kira had come to them when she was the most vulnerable.

Kirsia remembered her first days in Whiterun, not entirely certain why she felt drawn to the place, often sleeping on the benches near the statue of Talos, in no more than looted armor from the battle at Helgen. One night, Vilkas had seen her curled up near the foot of Dragonsreach, shivering from the cold wind that blew from the mountains. He had asked Kodlak if they could invite the young girl he saw into Jorrvaskr for the night, in an attempt to keep her from catching her death that the Nords did not feel. Kodlak had heard of her bravery in Helgen and had approved, on the provision that she was Vilkas' responsibility. He had gathered the young Breton from her slumber and had sat with her in front of the large fire at the centre of the main hall, giving her much needed food and drink in silence. He studied her, appraising the young woman in front of him, watching as she slowly ate the sweetroll he had provided, gingerly pulling apart the pastry and savouring each piece as if it could be her last. From that day on Kira swore she owed the Companions her life, in particular, Vilkas and Kodlak for their kindness it what were some of her darkest days. Yet again she found herself needing the help of the brothers, although not a life or death situation, this quest meant more to her than life.

"What do you know of the Thieves Guild in Riften?" Kirsia asks hesitantly.

The Nord looks up at her almost aghast. "I believe you know more about our brothers and sisters in Riften than I Kira. Why are you inquiring about your own guild? What are you up to?" The man's concern was apparent across his face, which was strange as he tended to keep such things close to his chest.

"I'm just searching for answers Vilkas, they aren't very forthcoming with their information you know," Kira fires back quickly, attempting to throw the wolf off the scent. The brothers cannot know that she wants information on their fellow Nord.

"You forget Kira, my wolf can smell a lie at 20 paces. This is about a certain thief who was in Whiterun until the early hours of this morning I presume?" Without needing an answer the Companion continues, "I know very little, however, rest assured he did not warm anyone's bed last night. He left Whiterun soon after you returned. It's said he rode straight back to the Rift, only stopping in Ivarstead to collect payment of some kind. You forget Kira, I've known you almost as long as you have called Skyrim your home, I know your tells. You can hide nothing from me." And with that the man returned to his book, noting how the thief's cheeks flushed slightly at the mention of the red-haired Nord she inquired after. How he wished he was still the reason for that flush. It was not that far past when the young Breton would blush under his gaze, and he would chuckle at her apparent clumsiness. Unfortunately, after months of trying to ascertain the truth of her feelings the young woman he adored had fled Whiterun, telling no one saves her housecarl as to her intentions.

Months past and the Nord was certain the woman he desired had perished in the winter snows blanketing most of the eastern parts of Skyrim or had succumbed to death at the hands of bandits or giants.

Only then had she returned, with fresh scars and new equipment. She had fashioned something into the wood beside her door, a mark of some description. She had visited only briefly, asking of the lore around a sword thought to be held within the province. A new light caught in her sky blue eyes, something he had not seen in the months in which she had spent with him and his family. After much research, he discovered the strange mark to be a 'shadowmark' denoting that she had joined the Thieves Guild below Riften.

He still thought of her often, wondered why after so long she had run from their home without so much as a word. Why the Breton would not join him as a Companion, why she refused to settle down in the place he called home, a place she called home. The day she returned his heart shattered, knowing that the woman he sought after for so long had chosen another, whether person or profession, over him. Farkas, of course, gave him what for, citing that his wolf would show him who was his when the time was right. But the Nord was stubborn and wanted the raven-haired woman who stood before him even now.

"Thank you Vilkas, truly you are a better friend than a thief deserves" Kira whispers, planting a light kiss on the Nords forehead. Feelings of sadness swelled in Kirsia chest, she knew the Nord still held hope for her heart, and it saddened her deeply that she could not reciprocate his feelings. Unfortunately, her heart longed for another, one who always seemed just out of her reach.

Making her way to the training yard the young Breton felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Bryn hadn't been his usual self, her thoughts wandered back to the Rift. Wondering what her brothers and sisters in the town she called home more often than not where doing.

Crossing the threshold to the training area, Kirsia stands back and watches as Farkas tries to best her housecarl. Lydia holding her own against the larger Nord, grunts slightly with each blow of his blade, swearing under her breath as the tip of his skyforged steel grazes her cheek. The Dovahkiin step out of the shadows of Jorrvaskr, brandishing her own weapon, a beautiful dagger forged by Arnskar in the Flagon. Skjor eyes the young thief from his vantage point and watches intently as the two women work in harmony against his Shield-Brother. Lydia taking the man's attention with her sword and Kira crouching low and taking precise jabs at his armour, careful not to harm Farkas but enough to startle him and admit defeat.

"You spar well young blood. Perhaps you should join our ranks, even though the Thane here refused." Farkas jokingly notes in Lydia's direction, more for Kira's benefit. The young woman noticeable stiffens at the notion, moving close behind her Thane.

"Fortunately, Farkas, I'm already sworn to protect her for the rest of my days. I cannot accept your offer" the woman retorts, thinking about the stories she had heard regarding the drunkards they were now surrounded by.

Skjor appears from his vantage point, almost as silently as Kira had. "Come brother, Kodlak wishes an audience with us. I'm sure we shall see more of you around Dragonborn, it was a delight seeing my brother bested by women other than Aela."

Kirsia gazes up at the older man, "It's an honour Skjor, besting Farkas is always a laugh. Hopefully, more jobs will bring me back to the hold sooner rather than later; it's always a pleasure to spend time with your Guild." Bidding her associates farewell, Kira retreats from the mead hall, Lydia falling into step just behind her. Descending the steps into the Wind District, the women appraise the people of the hold, many of whom are just beginning their days. On this particular morning, a small crowd had formed to listen to Heimskr's ever-present sermon on the meaning and validity of Talos. The Dragonborn turns her attention to Lucia, an imperial child orphaned in a war she could not wage. Today the girl looked frailer than usual, curling in on herself in front of the Temple of Kynareth. Kira remembered how when she had first arrived in Whiterun she must have looked much the same.

Kirsia motions to Lydia to hand her the gold purse she carried, only holding about ten septims, enough for the young girl to obtain some sustenance from Hulda in the Bannered Mare. Crouching next to the girl, Kira nudges her shoulder waking the child from her slumber. Pressing the purse firmly into her small hand, Lucia looks into the sapphire orbs of the Thane, confused at the meaning of the charity she was receiving. Muddy brown eyes gaze up at the scar blemished thief.

"Are you sure miss? This seems a lot for a simple orphan like me." Lucia questions. Often the Dragonborn had gifted her food or drink in the evenings when she spent in the Bannered Mare doing what little she could to help those who looked out for her, but never had she been gifted such a sum of septims to herself. "Nonsense child, for you. Go, get some food and drink for yourself. And don't let Braith bully you out of it, no matter what. If she bothers you, find Lydia here and she will arrange something else, understand?" The Dovahkiiin lightly scolds the child.

Kirsia stands and smiles as the child skips dutifully from the Wind District down into the marketplace. She may be a thief, but the people of Whiterun helped her when she feared her life was over. As far as she was concerned, Kira owed these people a great debt, one of the few reasons she refused jobs in the City. The Dragonborn turns to her loyal housecarl, bidding her farewell. "Look after them while I'm gone. I am not certain when I will return, but rest assured I will."

The women embrace quickly and take their separate paths, Lydia presumably heading after Lucia, Kira towards Breezehome to grab her pack, ready for the oncoming journey.

Looking after people. Not exactly the thing that comes to mind when talking about thieves. Then again, until she arrived no one had heard of a Dragonborn since Tiber Septim. Many believed her choice to join the ragtag band of thieves below Riften to be a direct humiliation of her gift. However Kirsia was determined to prove those naysayers wrong, vowing to look out for the people she came into contact with, helping towns and cities repel dragons oblivion bent on their destruction. Maybe what people thought was right, but Kira refused to believe just because she chose to join the thieves it made her a completely bad person and she was determined to uphold her personal values above all else.


End file.
